"The hand, the sign, the token of death!" she groaned, then, keeping her terrified eyes on Gerald, stole stealthily to the door. "Tána! ahi Tána. Lasso me: si davvéro. Tána! Tána!" uttering these words rapidly, and almost in a scream, she made the sign of the cross on her breast and vanished. By the time that Haskins, in pursuit, had reached the top of the stairs she was at the foot. A moment later and she ran swiftly in to the street, holding her veil closely over her pallid face.
"What the deuce does it mean?" Gerald asked himself, as he returned to his sitting-room, and examined the coral hand. "This thing seems to have terrified her almost to death. 'Tána! Tána!' Humph! I must learn what that means. It is an Italian word, I expect. Now what"----He went on musing on the strange behavior of Signora Dondi, much perplexed, and did not notice that a lady was standing in the doorway. Her cough made him look round, and so unnerved was Haskins by his late experience that he fairly jumped.
"Mrs. Berch!" he said, recognizing the lady at once. "I apologize for not seeing you."
"I apologize also," said Mrs. Berch; in the stern voice habitual to her--"apologize that is, for entering unannounced. But the door was open, Gerald, so I took the privilege of old friendship and entered."
"Delighted to see you, Mrs. Berch," said Haskins, wondering why she had come, "won't you sit down?"
"For one minute," and she took a chair.
Mrs. Berch was a tall, thin woman, with a worn, white face, and hair as black as her eyes, notwithstanding her age, which was over sixty. She was dressed in some lustreless, dark material without any trimming, and carried herself very erect. In fact there was something of the Roman matron about her, so stern and proud did she appear. Gerald liked her, as she had always been kind to him. But Mrs. Berch was something of an enigma to him. He could not understand why so bold and determined a woman should have submitted to the brutality of her late husband. Yet Mrs. Crosbie's father had behaved like a demon to his wife, as Gerald had learned from his mother. She adored her daughter, and--as the saying is--lived again in her child.
"You wonder why I have called," said Mrs. Berch, in an unemotional voice, which always reminded Haskins of one talking in sleep, "especially when I was lying down with a headache when you came. But Madge asked me to bring you this," and she produced Gerald's cigarette-case.
"Thank you. I left it behind by mistake and took Madge's. Here it is."
Mrs. Berch arose and received the dainty trifle. "That is all I called about, Gerald. I shall take it back to Madge at once. She was much disturbed at losing it."